Why can't You see?
by Satyra J
Summary: Dean is effected by John and Sam's arguing more then either of them could know. T for language set pre Stanford era
1. Chapter 1

_Why Can't they see me, _

_Why can't they hear me, _

_Why can't they tell I'm breaking_

Dean lay on the lumpy mattress that rested on the floor of this month's grungy too small bedroom. He rolled over desperately trying to drown out the yelling. John's voice carried through the thin walls of their tiny beat down house, resentment and hatred building with each carelessly thrown insult. He longed to go out there and yell at them to shut their fucking mouths, but he knew his place. The good little mindless soldier who only intervened when blows threatened to be exchanged.

The sound of something hitting the wall out in the living made Dean jerk to attention. Dean rushes out of the bedroom to try and stop the argument from coming to blows, John was looming over Sam both their faces red and chest heaving.

"Guys stop, Sammy why don't we go out for a bite" Deans attempt to stop the argument from escalating fell on deaf ears. _Why couldn't they see, see how small and pathetic they make me feel._

"Damn it, Sam! Why can't you just listen and do as you're told?"

Sam stood mere inches away from John defiance blazing behind hazel eyes "Because _Dad _I don't listen to shit, I don't want to miss the first week of school to go on some hunt!"

"Watch your fucking mouth Samuel! We have another hunt and you want to stay and study?"

"I just don't want to get behind, its one week!"

"No, Sam! We have a lead. people are dying and its our job to stop it!"

Dean had heard this conversation a million times before.

"God, Sam. Why can't you be more like Dean?"

Anger and another unrecognizable emotion bubble in deans stomach. _So thats all I am? Another line to use against each other in this continuous argument? Am I just a weapon? A weapon for you two to just point at whatever you need killed and __destroyed_. Dean knew what would happen next, knew the look of betrayal that would flash across Sam's still young boyish features. Knew what he would say in retaliation. He didn't want to hear what happened next, but he did hear. He always heard. _Why couldn't they see I hear every word they carelessly throw around?_

"Because I'm not Daddy's little robot! I have a mind!"

"Sammy.."_ When had my voice gotten so weak, so meek?_ Once again hes pleas went ignored

"I need a son who can follow orders, who does what needs to be done!"

"Fallowing your orders is what gets us in trouble. Because Dean follows your orders mindlessly is why hes always getting hurt!"

"It's not my orders that make Dean fuck up"

_Why couldn't they see how deep their words cut?_

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><p><em>AN: <em>I feel like this isn't complete but I'm no good at long stories, tell me if you think I should try and continue.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean takes a step back as if he's been struck, he feels like he's been struck. His mind has gone blank of all emotion except for his family's words ringing viciously in his ears. He stumbles back another step crashing into the kitchen table knocking over one of the tipsy chairs. The clattering filling the tense air.

The clattering noise of the chair falling onto dirty linoleum broke something inside of him, snapped smoothing deep inside dean. A flood of blinding rage rushed through him, his muscles buzzed with adrenalin and hatred. Chest heaving almost violently with angry breath, hands clenched and body shaking with barley contained fury.

Dean's obvious display of anger stunned the other two Winchesters, shocking them into silence for a beat.

"Dean..." John's socked voice barely registered in Dean's hazy emotion filled mind "Dean, son calm down."

John's command only served to add fuel to the fire building inside Dean. But despite the rage and anger and hurt, he would not carelessly insult his father or Sammy. _I can't even do that, maybe I am a mindless soldier. Good only for hurting and killing, just their good little weapon._

With that thought brought despair and anguish flooding through his system like a flash flood dousing the red hot rage and leaving dean feeling cold and empty, used and worthless. He quickly spun on his heals rushing for the door before John or Sammy could watch him break.

"DEAN! Come back!" John's ordered followed dean out into the freezing night. But this once he would out run his dad's orders. He was determined to.

So dean ran, ran though the parking lot ran past the Impala, and ran down the block, then down another. He kept running tell he muscles pumped battery acid, then he ran some more. He ran until his legs quaked and his feet begged him to stop. He ran until he throat was lined with sand paper and his lungs seized up in complaint.

And when his body refused to run, when his legs collapsed beneath him, he broke. Dean split and opened, and he shattered into tiny little pieces. We all know what happened to humpty dumpty, Dean knew. And he knew that when he broke he wouldn't be put back together. Because He didn't have all the kings men. He had a father that shouted orders at him, a mother that haunted his dreams, and a Sammy that was grown and didn't really need him anymore.

So Dean sat there in the middle of some nameless field on his hands and knees his lungs dragging in painful gasps of air and broke, he broke with no hope of being put back together again.

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><p>AN: Ok so that was almost painfully cheesy not to mention the bits I stole from Fight Club, I told you I was no good at long stories. I have no idea where this story is going. Like not even a whisper of plot is floating in my big empty head, so any suggestions are much loved. Cause If I can't think of anything to add to this I'm gonna have to leave it at this.<p>

Share some plot bunnies so we can make some angsty Dean stew. Goble Goble, plot bunny stew!


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